BlackLivesMatter

Silence takes many forms, both positive and negative. The silence of the early morning, before others awaken. The silence of a monastery, where we go for meditation. The silence of government, when it doesn’t respond to a disaster. And the silence of community leaders, when members of the community are in crisis. I think most people value silence at some point in their lives. Silence has a role and a place. But I want to explore moving from silence to an action, a declaration, a response. Through silence I work to cultivate insight and compassion. It is also through silence that people remain unheard in our society and in our communities.

Last month I received a text message from a Black colleague. My colleague wrote, “White silence is real.” This was an invitation and a wake-up call. The text was sent in disappointment and in kindness. Disappointment because he had to say it. Kindness because he said it. For me, the exchange was about being unafraid of difficult conversations. And my role was to say thank you, be silent, and then take action.

White privilege and racism are hard for white people to see. It challenges us as individuals and as well-meaning people who often see racism through the lens of Racist = Bad / Not Racist=Good binary. This really sets us up to be defensive and unable to see a different reality. In writing about what makes racism so hard for whites, Robin DiAngelo identifies individualism as a key characteristic. She writes, “Individualism prevents us from seeing ourselves as responsible for or accountable to other whites as members of a shared racial group that collectively benefits from racial inequality.” This in turn leads to our silence and to our denial of the advantages of being white, allowing us to think through a colorblind lens, assuming that we treat everyone equally. From this place it is difficult, if not impossible, to build cross-racial understanding and discover how race and racism are at play in our lives.

I want to break my racial solidarity with my fellow whites and speak to you. This is not about feeling guilty, feeling indignant, or a need to prove ourselves. This is an invitation to begin to see our racial filters and to recognize their impact on people of color. This is an invitation to look deeply into the life experiences of the Black men and women in this country. Looking deeply means reading Black literature and history, following people of color on social media, seeking out media aligned with racial justice (such as Colorlines), attending race-focused conferences, cultivating friendships with people of color, and engaging in small-group workshops with other white people to talk about what it means to be white. It is a constant learning process, and we will make many mistakes along the way. Like the text thread above demonstrated.

For most of my life I have remained silent, either consciously or unconsciously, when racism is present in conversations and in my community. Honestly, it has been easy to remain silent because as white people we have been trained to ignore racism and act as if racism is either something taking place elsewhere, or that racism is already solved. We’ve got our blinders on. I am going to go out on a limb here and suggest that people of color have also been silent, but in a completely different way. While as a white man, I don’t always see the racism, people of color have learned to accommodate, code switch, and/or withdraw. The person of color feels racism acutely. They are constantly reminded through media, wealth, employment, housing, law enforcement, education, etc. that things are unjust. In the workplace and in the community, people of color may not feel safe to speak up and remind others of racism. I imagine it is exhausting to remind white people of their blindness.

What I have observed is when people of color speak up, particularly Black Americans, they are judged and shut down. White people see them as being angry or unreasonable. That what they ask and argue for is too much. Then we may beg them to hear our apology and we ask them to be forgiving of us! Ultimately, we may even say that we feel silenced because talking about race makes us feel unsafe and judged. Suggesting that we don’t want to offend anyone. I am not being silenced because a person of color has finally been able to speak up and share living truth. We may think our action are about being politically correct and sensitive. I have been this white person making these judgments and requests.

My action, my declaration, my response is to engage in this difficult conversation. To hear the stories told by people of color, to offer the benefit of truth, to speak up when I see injustice, and to stand in solidarity in the hope of building and creating a more equitable world. Step forward with honesty, humility, and a willingness to make mistakes. Know when to be silent, and when not to be silent.

What does a community college campus do when a racial slur is used in a meeting? This occurred at my place of employment, and for the past week, we have come face-to-face with the structural racism that exists on my campus and within American society.

These are troubling and challenging times we are experiencing. To directly experience structural racism on our campus, immediately on the heals an amazing Facing Race conference, has forced me to apply what I have learned right away. A racial slur was said out loud during a Gender Equity meeting in which I was present. That experience has solidified how little our society has the fundamental framework to engage and navigate anti-racism work. I include myself in that “society” as I sat quietly as the n-word was said out loud into the room. And again, remained silent by not immediately reaching out to black colleague whom I had just spent a few days in Detroit.

As a white American, I don’t want to let fear, shame, and embarrassment prevent me from engaging in the work of justice and equity. Doing the work will include making mistakes. We need to own our mistakes, name the injustice, and most importantly, listen. Listen to understand. And then speak up.

Our colleagues who are people of color have been injured and have been disregarded for their lived experiences on this campus. Time and time again they have not been heard because we (collectively) don’t know how to listen and seek to understand. I have watched myself tune out when a voice is raised or an “angry” voice is made by a person of color as I allow “civility” to block out centuries of abuse and injustice. As a colleague shared with me recently, “We forget that all white people are associated with racism and systemic white supremacy. We all support a culture of racism in that we have all been socialized into it, benefit from it, and are complicit in supporting systems that keep it in place.” And I’ve learned that left-wing, progressive people (myself included) often have the hardest time seeing our own racism. This last year I read two books that deeply influenced my thinking around this topic – What Does it Mean to be White?andWhite Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism, both by Robin DiAngelo. I highly recommend both these titles.

Source: goodmenproject.com

I’ve found this work to be challenging and painful. It’s very easy to feel hurt and defensive when I perceive an attack on my character or my intention. At times, I can’t even see the impact of my words or actions until someone says something. What I’m learning to do is to listen and simply say thank you. These are gifts being offered by my colleagues to help me break down inherent racism and white supremacy. And to take responsibility to speak up. I don’t have the answers, but I do know what practices have helped me cultivate trusted and respected relationships with people of color.

This anti-racism and equity work must be extended to the board of trustees, the faculty, the staff, the administrators, and the students. We can take a deep dive into structural racism and gender inequality and forge a path forward that amplifies and channels those voices that have not been heard. Let’s raise up these voices so all might hear.

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